


Love Potion

by Muriel_Perun



Series: The Low Spark of Giles [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, blood sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:07:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muriel_Perun/pseuds/Muriel_Perun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "Sabbatical," Giles and Spike haven't seen each other for months. When Giles disappears, Buffy suspects Spike. But deeper forces are at work, set in motion by an old enemy of Giles', that will bring Giles and Spike closer as it tears Giles and the others apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Potion

 

It was mid-afternoon on a bright spring day when Spike knew he’d hit bottom. There he was, sleeping it off peacefully in his tomb when the slayer actually came right in and shook him awake. That never would have happened in his glory days.

“Aw, Slayer, get lost, will you?” He turned on his side and buried his face in his arms. It was broad daylight and he’d barely finished drinking half that bottle of Cuervo Gold. He saw her look over the remains of the bottle sitting there capless next to two crumpled and empty plastic blood sacks.

“So, Spike, you’ve been bingeing, haven’t you?” she exclaimed with that obnoxious self-confident sarcasm of hers. Her attitude had gotten worse since he’d had the chip; although, Spike had to admit, she could always kick his ass, even on a bad day. How humiliating that was for a guy who had a couple of slayers under his belt, so to speak. “Wow, Cuervo Gold! What are we celebrating today?” she asked brightly.

“Initiative is gone,” he mumbled. “They fucked themselves right in the arse with that stupid demon project. Though they might have had the decency to take this chip back when they left.”

The slayer laughed condescendingly. “Poor Spike,” she said, but she didn’t mean it. “You still have a purpose in life, you know. Or should I say ‘a purpose in death’?”

“You can say either,” he said recklessly, closing his eyes against the bit of glare that seeped thought the doorway, “I don’t really give a shit.”

He ought to have known that his words would provoke her, but he’d said them anyway. Fat lot of good it did him to be a smart-ass. She hauled him to his feet by one arm, and there was no use resisting. He already had a headache, and if he fought her, this chip in his head would give him another. Mortals didn’t know it, but demons got headaches just like everyone else. He took a swipe at the bottle of tequila on the way up, but the slayer kept him out of reach.

“Oh, no,” she said, “I need you awake.”

“You need me?” he mumbled suggestively. “I always thought you did, but you know what?” Clearly she did know what, because she busted him one right across the chops. He kept quiet after that and let her take him where she wanted.

With a blanket over his head, he couldn’t see where they were going, only that Xander was at the wheel and that clueless ex-demon girlfriend of his was in the front seat. When they hauled him out of the car and into a house he kept his eyes closed, but he knew by the scent that it was Rupert’s place, and that Rupert wasn’t there.

The rest of them were, though, all sitting around in the parlor. Buffy, Willow, Xander, Anya, and the slayer’s new squeeze, that wooden soldier. Funny she could stomach him after Angel. The werewolf wasn’t around anymore. He’d been replaced by a witch. Whatever turns you on, Spike always said.

He tossed the blanket down and smoothed his hair. Well, if he was going to be the center of attention, he’d act like it. “Where’s Rupert?” he asked. The smell of burnt paper was oppressive in here.

Buffy smiled, but not cheerfully. “That’s what we’d like to know.”

Suddenly he got it. “You think I did something to him?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Buffy said, shoving him down in a chair and tying his hands behind him.

“Well, I didn’t. Sorry to disappoint. I have a chip in my head, lest you forget.” He was dying to ask if there was any food in the fridge, but somehow he didn’t think it would help his case.

“You and Giles spent some time together a couple of months ago,” Buffy began.

Ah. So that’s where this was going.

“Yeah,” Spike said, shrugging, “we got on for a bit.” No one said anything. “Look,” he said, “I’ve been on a drunk for the last week. I don’t have a clue what’s going on in town. What makes you think that something happened to him? Maybe he went for a road trip and didn’t bother to tell you lot.”

“He doesn’t have a car anymore, thanks to you,” Willow pointed out.

“Oh, yeah.” Spike had smashed it up, but he hadn’t meant to. Rude of them to remind him.

“Where did you get the tequila money?” Buffy asked. Trust her to focus in on the main point.

“I stole it,” he lied.

“From Giles?”

“No.” Spike was afraid he’d end up in captivity here again, tied in the bathtub for weeks. Well, he’d catch up on his soap, but that was the only good point he could see. “Rupert and I are mates.” He knew as he said it that he shouldn’t have bothered. He didn’t know what he and Rupert had been, really, but right now at least they weren’t enemies. “Look,” he said, exasperated, “you lot don’t give a damn how I get along. I steal when I can, but most of the time I go without.”

“Poor Spike,” Buffy said again mockingly.

“Hey,” he said angrily, “why don’t you tell me why you think something happened to Rupert? Maybe I can help. I’ll probably just get my ass kicked by a demon again, but what the hell.”

“All right,” said Buffy, “since this isn’t getting us anywhere, I’ll humor you. Last night, Giles called me and asked me to come over right away. He said he had something to show me. When I got here, I found these.” She held up Rupert’s glasses. The frames were twisted at an odd angle.

“That’s it?”

“There was a book open on the floor.” She bent down and picked up a plastic bag that held a charred mass of paper. “This is all that was left of it.”

“Why do you suspect me?” Spike asked, honestly bewildered. “I’m not in the habit of throwing thunderbolts, and I can’t have manhandled Rupert. I’ve still got a chip in my head.”

“But you could have brought some of your friends here, couldn’t you?” Willow said accusingly.

Spike snorted. “I don’t have any friends. Thanks to you, I’m universally hated by the demon community. The vamps think I’ve got a soul like your friend Angel, and the demons think I’m working for you.”

“Darn it, Buffy!” The wooden soldier found his voice. “We know he got money from Giles. Giles told you he was here when you talked on the phone. Why are you letting him—”

“Riley, let me handle it.” Oh-ho, if that guy had any balls he’d have walked out right then, but he didn’t. He just sat there and shut his mouth. Must be fun to be the slayer’s beau. Then again, Spike could tell that Buffy had listened, because the look on her face said that she wasn’t going to take any more bullshit. Spike hurried to get there before she could.

“Oh, you mean yesterday!” he said, trying to sound innocent. “Yeah, I was here for a few minutes. Giles gave me some money. He often does, y’know.” It suddenly occurred to Spike that they had been fishing, and that he’d walked right into their net. They knew he’d been here but they guessed that he’d gotten some money. Did they think he’d brought along some demon shake-down artist who had roughed up Rupert or taken him for a ride?

“Why does he give you money?” Xander asked with obvious distaste.

“Because…hell, I don’t know. He just does. I help him out occasionally.” He supposed on Rupert’s side it was guilt or nostalgia or something. On his own side, it was taking advantage of Rupert’s weakness, and perhaps a bit of desire, too. They hadn’t gotten it on since the day after that night they had gone to L.A. to help Angel get out of a murder charge. Spike had walked out on Rupert then because he’d been frustrated at not being able to turn him. Now he thought about the warm bed, the great sex, the arguments… But, hell, he didn’t want to be a tame vampire. He needed to be out on his own.

“If Spike didn’t have anything to do with it, who did?” Riley asked angrily. _Oh, yeah, smart boy,_ Spike thought, _as if there aren’t fifty thousand other demons and vamps out there in Sunnydale who’d all like a piece of Rupert roasted on a spit._ Spike was gradually becoming aware that under the smell of burned paper other scents lingered faintly in the air: blood, fear, scorched flesh.

Suddenly everything they’d been saying caught up with him. Spike felt uneasy, and not just for himself. Where the devil was Rupert, anyway? He’d looked upset yesterday when Spike had been by, but Spike had been so hungry that he hadn’t noticed a thing except the twenties coming out of Rupert’s wallet.

“Someone else was here yesterday,” he announced, suddenly remembering.

“Who?” For the first time Buffy looked more interested than angry.

“I don’t know who it was,” he said slowly. “A middle-aged guy, British. Wore black. He was coming in the door as I was leaving. Rupert didn’t look glad to see him.”

“A vampire?” asked Riley eagerly.

Spike threw him a withering look. “Human. My nose still works, even in my decrepit state.”

“Ethan?” asked Buffy.

“Not Ethan,” Spike said firmly. “I’ve fought him. Rupert had a load of books spread out around the room. Did you find any others?” Buffy indicated a pile off to one side. “I suppose those are the ones that didn’t have the information in them,” suggested Willow. “I mean, whatever information it was that this guy didn’t want Giles to have.”

Brilliant. You’d think she was a twit the way she said things sometimes, but actually she was pretty smart. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of some of her spells.

Spike kicked at the plastic bag with the book in it. It was charbroiled for sure. He couldn’t see the spine. “Any idea what book this is?”

“Willow thinks it’s a medieval bestiary.” Buffy said.

“So, what kind of beast was this guy?” Spike thought he was adding to the discussion, but they all seemed to lose interest in him. If he hadn’t been tied, he would have sneaked out the door.

“Maybe we should ask Giles’s neighbors if they saw the guy Spike saw,” Tara suggested quietly.

Buffy nodded. “Why don’t you two do that? The rest of us will look through the other bestiaries for something that could do this.” She indicated the charred book.

“I can track Rupert,” Spike said.

They all looked at him with bemused little smiles as if they couldn’t believe he thought they were so thick.

“So, you want us,” Xander said, with exaggerated gestures that really got Spike’s goat, “to let you go. That’s what you want?”

“Once the sun goes down, I’ll find him for you. I can follow his scent.” God, yes, Spike had been covered with that scent for days after he’d left Rupert’s place. He still smelled it in his dreams. He could find Rupert anywhere in Sunnydale.

“All right,” Buffy said, sighing, “we’ll see if you can find him.”

 

Rupert’s neighbors hadn’t seen a thing, as usual, and the gang soon settled down to looking through books. They’d let Spike out of his chair, now that they had another suspect, so he paced, waiting for sunset, wishing he had a cigarette or a drink. He didn’t know how they could just sit here and read while their friend was in danger. Their friend, not his. He just wanted to get out of here. But now that he had started thinking about Rupert, he couldn’t stop. There was a kind of itch in his belly, the same itch that had driven him out of here. He wanted to hold Rupert in his arms again, and he wanted to drink Rupert’s blood.

He went upstairs and looked at the bed they’d shared. With the curtains pulled tight and the candles lit, it had been their own little world, a world with no slayer, no little gang of human beings lording it over him just because he couldn’t bite anymore. He and the watcher had been equals then. Of course Spike had wanted more than he could have. What else was new? And if he’d been able to turn Rupert, then who knows what would have happened? Who knows what kind of obnoxious demon would have come up from hell to inhabit him? Only half of the old Giles would be there, then. His soul would be gone, and he would be different. Just think of the difference between Angel and Angelus. Spike shook his head. He couldn’t say he cared for either of them, and he couldn’t say which was worse. Be careful what you wish for.

He took a shower to clear his head, and when he came down they all looked at him coldly. “What’s the problem?” he asked belligerently. “Rupert wouldn’t begrudge me a little hot water and a towel.” He supposed it wasn’t the liberty he’d taken as much as the idea that he’d had the run of this house before and that he’d been intimate with their precious watcher. He wondered how much they knew about that. Somehow he was sure that Rupert would never tell, but Angel or Cordelia might have mentioned it. Blabbermouths. He didn’t care. He helped himself to some cereal and milk, but the milk was off. The date was fine, too. He complained about it to the slayer and she laughed in his face.

As the sun finally set, Spike threw open the door and took a deep breath.

“Well?” Buffy asked doubtfully.

“I have to scout around a bit,” he said defensively. “I’m too close to the house.”

He strolled around the neighborhood. The sky was still light. Xander and Buffy were actually following him at a distance. He smiled wickedly. He could lose them if he wanted to. Perhaps he ought to show them that.

He’d picked up Rupert’s scent in front of the house, but now he couldn’t smell a thing. He was sure that the watcher had been taken away in a car and that he had been bleeding. Spike would have to use his instincts to pick up the trail somewhere else in town. The slayer was someone to have at your back in a fight, but somehow Spike wanted to lose her. He waited until the sun was really gone and then peeled off into the shrubbery. With her slowed down by Xander, it was child’s play.

He headed down to the warehouse district. That’s where he liked to hang out before the fire had convinced Dru they needed to stay in the mansion. There were lots of abandoned buildings down there. Once he got among them he’d know if Rupert were close.

He stopped in a sheltered place and took a deep breath. There was something on the wind, something strange. He climbed up the side of a building and tried again. It was a kind of charred smell, as if someone had thrown another little lightning bolt. And then, under that, blood and fear. Wherever Rupert was, he wasn’t having a good time, and he wasn’t the only one.

Spike went along from roof to roof, leaping easily between buildings. There wasn’t much happening down here tonight. That in itself was strange. There were dim lights behind filthy windows here and there, but they didn’t attract him. Now he was closer. The burnt smell and the blood were both overwhelming, although a human wouldn’t have smelled a thing. Finally he reached a great, half-wrecked factory, open at one end and blocked with splintered beams and crumbled cement where the roof had fallen in. It wouldn’t have been his choice of lair, but there was lots of room inside. Behind the windows there was a flickering light, as if someone had made a big bonfire. Not Spike’s favorite thing, fire. Or Rupert’s, tonight. From the smell of it, someone had burned him.

Spike found a way in upstairs and reached a catwalk about twenty feet above the main floor. It was an old assembly line, maybe a bottling plant. The disused conveyor belts were buckled, but the metal supports above them had been used to suspend a line of a dozen prisoners tied by their hands. Rupert was there, and from the way his head was bent, Spike wasn’t sure he was conscious. His shirt was open and there was blood on his chest. Spike felt a surge of anger at the thought that someone might have tasted Rupert’s blood. At least he was alive.

The fire, blazing in an old metal barrel far away at the crushed end of the building, provided more light than the dusty light bulbs strung along the walls on sagging wires. A bunch of metal rods protruded from the flames. Spike guessed that they had been used to brand the prisoners or torture them. Here, in the shadows, closer to the prisoners, a group of maybe ten vampires milled around, talking loudly. They were all males, young bucks, by the look of it, and most so raw they couldn’t control their faces. None of them looked familiar, but then there were a lot of different crowds in Sunnydale. Now Spike had second thoughts about ditching the slayer. Oh, well. He’d just have to get along without her. He’d relied on his wits before and, if need be, he could fight these guys. He bet they were cowards at heart. As long as they didn’t all try to take him at once, he ought to be all right. Quickly he swung himself over the void and slid down the railing of the broken stairs that led to the warehouse floor.

“Good evening, all,” he said, strutting past the prisoners with hardly a glance. “Anyone have a fag?”

The vamps of course struck various ridiculously macho poses. Spike laughed as one threw himself forward. Spike stepped aside and tripped him, sending him sprawling. The others moved back. Good. He hoped none of them had any more fighting sense than the first. He didn’t want to bring out his stake until he needed it. Now he had their attention.

“Who are you? What do you want here?” one asked stupidly.

“Who am I?” Spike asked, hoping to hell they were too new in town to have heard of him. “I’m William the Bloody, that’s who. And no one goes on a raid like this without giving me a piece of it.” What he was saying sounded absurd, but he hoped that the others wouldn’t have the brains to know it.

“This is our food,” said a tall vampire who looked as though he hadn’t washed his hair in a year.

“Doesn’t look like you’re eating,” said Spike, who had noticed that the victims were bleeding from superficial burns and cuts to the chest, not bites on the neck.  

“We’re waiting for _him_ ,” said the one he’d knocked down.

Uh-oh. Spike bet that _“he”_ was the one with the firebolts. A burnt patch on the floor looked suspiciously like a scorched vampire. Spike had no desire to meet “ _him_.” There was no time to waste.

“Give me this girl,” Spike said, picking a prisoner at random, “and I won’t kill you all.” The young ones laughed until he went over and hit the one with the greasy hair, who looked like their leader. “Come on,” Spike said provocatively, “I’ll fight you for her.”

The fight didn’t last long. Spike wanted it to look easy so that the others would leave him alone. The other was bigger and stronger than he but much less skilled. He must be used to winning by throwing his weight around, but not this time. When the vampire had overbalanced himself, Spike put a stake in his path and produced an impressive puff of ash.

“Who’s next?” he asked. No one volunteered. He knew he had a matter of moments before they’d regain their perspective and realize that he was outnumbered ten to one. He walked over to his “prize.” She was a woman of about 30 who was barely conscious and was looking at him with terror through blackened eyes. It looked as if all the humans had been beaten up pretty well. It figured that he’d have to carry Rupert all the way home. “Tell you what,” he said to the group, “just to show you there are no hard feelings, you keep her. I’ll have him.” He pulled out a knife and cut the rope that held Rupert’s hands. Rupert fell like a dead weight. That was not a good sign. Without appearing too gentle, Spike cut the ropes that bound his wrists. His hands were gray, but his face looked flushed and red as if he had a fever. Spike wondered if he’d been strung up there all night. He took Rupert in his arms and headed towards the broken stairs. He mustn’t stumble on the way up, even with his burden. Any sign of weakness could incite a group of vampires to attack. He’d seen it happen dozens of times.

“Wait a minute!” one of them called to him. “You have to eat him. You can’t turn him, you know.”

“Why not?” Spike asked without stopping.

One of the young bucks ran up to block his way. “You can’t leave with him,” he said. “Eat him here. You see the mark.” He pointed to the burn on Giles’ chest. “The blood keeps flowing. You can’t turn him.”

Something eluded Spike here, but he didn’t have time to figure it out. He’d have to play along until they weren’t watching him so carefully. He hoped all he had to do was wait. Thanks to the demon in them, most vampires had very short attention spans.

Spike had reached the stairs now and sat on the lowest step. “You lot don’t mind if I have my supper privately, do you?” Spike laid Giles out across his lap and had a better look at the mark on his chest. It was a wavering circle with a series of hooks coming out all around, like a miniature sun. The circle was branded into his flesh, but the hooks were carved. It was truly a dirty piece of work, even Spike had to admit. Giles’ neck was clear. No one had bitten him. The pulse in his throat seemed extraordinarily strong for someone who had spent the last 24 hours as Giles must have.

Now Spike faced another test. How was he going to get out of this one? He couldn’t drink Rupert without being struck down by the chip, and while he was incapacitated he and Rupert might both be killed. He had to fake it and just hope that the chip read his intention not to actually bite. But if the others didn’t smell blood soon, they might take a run at him. Frustrated, he bent back Rupert’s head and bit at his neck, braced for the pain in his head. His fangs entered the watcher’s throat smoother than steel blades. Spike drank deeply, drowned in the rich perfume of Rupert’s blood. He had always known he would feel like this, giddy and high and turned-on. As he drank he couldn’t help making little moans of pleasure, stroking his fingers over Rupert’s head and face. The watcher was his again, completely. He drank joyously, greedily, barely conscious of who he was and what he had come here to do.

 _There was too much blood. He had to stop._ _He had to stop or Rupert would die._    Spike came back to himself with a jolt, detaching his mouth from Rupert’s throat with a great effort. Rupert still lived. His heart beat steadily and he no longer had that flushed, livid look. Spike looked up. The whole pack of vampires stood watching him, though they hadn’t dared come too close while he was feeding. He stood to face them, holding Rupert in his arms.

“You’ve fed, now put him down and go,” one of them said. How quickly they had elected a new leader. “ _He_ said none of these should be turned, and none should leave here. They are meant to feed us through the time to come.” The others stirred uneasily. Panic was rising in the ranks. But Spike knew he was a match for anything. The watcher’s blood had coursed through his body like lightning. He felt that he could kill them all, but he had to get Rupert out of here. He looked at the pack poised to attack him and he smiled. “I dare you,” he said recklessly. “Try and catch me.” Up the stairs and across the roofs he bolted, carrying Rupert all the while as if he were weightless. The others hadn’t a chance of catching up with him. But as he left the warehouse district and the vampires behind, anxiety began to catch up with him. Something was wrong with Rupert. Spike had drunk enough blood to make him gray and weak, but he looked flushed again, and he was starting to regain consciousness, muttering strange snatches of words. Spike ran as he had only run before to save his own life until he burst through the door of Rupert’s house and collapsed to his knees with Rupert still in his arms.

The gang had been sitting on the sofa, but they were on their feet now. “Call an ambulance!” Buffy shouted to Willow. She threw herself down by Giles’ side and took his head into her arms. “Who bit him?” she asked anxiously. “Has he been turned?”

“No.” Spike could barely talk. The blood was still buoying him up, making him feel he could almost fly. He put his hand over Rupert’s heart and felt a steady pulse. “There’s a warehouse at Marina and C by the wharf. There are more people being held there and about ten vamps. I’ll go back with you,” he heard himself saying. “I want to stake those wankers.”

Buffy wasn’t listening. “How do you know he wasn’t turned? Are you sure?” She was panicking now at the thought of having to stake her beloved watcher.

“He wasn’t turned,” Spike said clearly. “I saw it.” He had to lie. There was no way to explain to this self-righteous twit why he’d drunk from Rupert. Outside a siren wailed, and then another, and a third. Surely they weren’t all coming here.

Buffy was staring at him in horror. “Spike, you have blood on your lips.”

“No I don’t,” he said quickly. Buffy pulled a stake out of her boot as the wail of the ambulance rose outside, and Spike took off running into the night.

 

Sunnydale was filled with sirens that night, and Spike soon discovered why. The warehouse had been set ablaze, sending an enormous plume of black smoke out over the sea. The vampires and their “food” had disappeared, or perhaps they’d all been immolated. Spike had frightened someone, someone very powerful. He had to warn Rupert, but how to get near him when Buffy thought Spike was the greatest danger?

He avoided the cemetery and circled carefully back to Rupert’s place. The house was brightly lit but empty. He went to the hospital next, and caught a glimpse of Xander pacing in the emergency room. He stood aside in the dark and wondered how badly hurt Rupert was, and whether being drained of part of his blood had made it worse. He wondered why he had finally been able to bite again, and why Rupert had seemed to have so much blood. And Spike watched for _him_ , Giles’ unwanted visitor, the one that only Spike would recognize.

 

“If only we could find Spike,” Buffy sighed. She stood next to Giles’ bed and Riley sat in the orange plastic armchair. “I’d love to know what he saw.”

“Maybe Giles will remember,” Riley suggested. “The doc said he ought to wake up soon.”

“I wonder what’s wrong,” Buffy said, stroking Giles’ inert hand. “He was obviously bitten by a vampire, but the doctor’s draining blood _out_ of him instead of giving him a transfusion. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Giles’ hand suddenly came alive under her own. “Spike,” he said softly. He opened his eyes. “Buffy.”

“You’re in the hospital Giles,” Buffy said soothingly.

“Yes, I had gathered that from the delightful décor.”

Buffy tried to smile. “Do you know what happened to you, or where you were?”

“I would have thought Spike could have filled you in on a bit of that,” Giles said with an effort. “My recollections aren’t very clear, but I do know that he carried me out of that place. A warehouse of some kind.”

“Yes, well…” Buffy hesitated. “When I saw that you’d been bitten I went ballistic. I pulled a stake on him and he ran away.”

“I see.” Giles squeezed his eyes shut and gingerly touched his throat. “It was a nest of vampires, down somewhere in the area of the wharf. There are other victims. I’m afraid I can’t tell you how many.”

Buffy nodded. “That’s what Spike said—Marina and C Street. I’ll go check it out, but I really need to know who took you there.”

Giles’ face took on a started look. “Oh, god, yes. I must speak to Wesley immediately.”

“Giles, can’t you tell me who—”

“Not yet. When are they going to let me go home?”

“The doctor said there was something wrong with your blood.”

“My blood?” Giles was staring at her strangely.

“There’s too much of it or something. They’re actually draining some off.”

“What about that symbol on your chest, sir?” Riley asked tentatively. “Do you know what it means?”

Giles pushed down his unlaced hospital gown and peeled off the bandage on his chest. “I have some ideas,” he said. “I need to go home so I can research this,” he said. “Where are my clothes?”

“Stay here a while, Giles,” Buffy coaxed. “You’ve had a hard time. You’ve been beaten and you spent a day hanging by your wrists.”

“Any broken bones? Concussion? I really don’t feel all that bad. I’m just hungry.”

“No, no other injuries. But I think Spike bit you.”

“Spike?” Giles thought. “I can’t remember, but I’d say that it’s impossible.”

“What if his chip malfunctioned?” Riley asked.

“Then why did he bring me home?” Giles rubbed his forehead with the fingertips of both hands. “There are quite a few things I’d like to ask him, but I’m afraid you’ve frightened him off for the moment.”

“I was so sure he had blood on his face,” she said. “Maybe I was wrong, but he had the look of a vampire who’s just fed.”

“Spike will come back when’s he’s ready,” Giles said. “You know how hard he is to find if he really wants to hide.”

“Unless he’s on a binge,” said Buffy pensively.

“What we really need to know is what this symbol means.” Giles indicated his chest. “Help me find my clothes.”

Buffy got Giles’ clothing out of the closet. It was in sad shape, torn and bloodstained from his ordeal and from the paramedics’ ministrations. “I’d better get you something from home,” she said.

“I’ll get it,” offered Riley. “You stay with Giles. Whoever abducted him might be back.”

“Thank you, Riley. Buffy, can you bring me the phone and my wallet? I have to call Wesley.”

“Be careful,” Buffy called after Riley.

 

Riley walked out into the dark, trying to be alert to his surroundings. He still didn’t feel comfortable carrying a stake in his boot like Buffy did. It tended to poke him when he walked. He bent to adjust it and suddenly someone was at his side.

“All right, army boy, one move and I’ll bolt again,” Spike said warningly.

Riley straightened quickly. “That’s not much of a threat,” he said.

“No, you’re right, it doesn’t have the same ring to it as ‘I’ll tear your throat out,’ does it?”

“I guess that means your chip is still working.”

“’fraid so. I took a try at someone just to see and I got a bloody migraine.”

“Did you bite Giles?” Riley asked.

Spike looked at his feet. “Funny thing about that. I did, actually. I meant to fake it. The vampires weren’t going to let me take him, so I pretended to bite him, and suddenly I did.” He looked at Riley to see his reaction. “I never meant to. I was as surprised as anyone.”

Riley looked at him uncertainly. Spike’s story sounded reasonable, but Riley’s instincts rebelled at the idea of trusting him. “Giles wants to talk to you,” he said. “I have to get him some clothes so he can leave the hospital.”

“So you’re just walking home alone to get them? Christ, man, have you lost your mind?” Unprepared for Spike’s outburst, Riley just stared. “I mean, that guy who took Rupert—he’ll be back. He had a dozen people strung up in that warehouse, all meant for vampire food. Tell Giles to wait until morning. And tell him not to be alone. And tell him—”

“Why don’t you tell him?” Riley asked.

“No offense, mate, but I don’t want to run into your girlfriend tonight. The one with the pointy thing in her boot?”

“I don’t think she’ll stake you.”

“You don’t _think_ so. Well, thanks.”

“I think she knows she overreacted,” Riley said uncomfortably.

“I’ll stay out here,” Spike said prudently. “I’m the only one who’s seen _him._ ”

“Seen who?”

“ _Him_. The fellow who took Rupert. I reckon he’ll be back, and I’m going to keep watch.” Riley blinked and Spike was gone. He almost thought it had been a dream.

 

When Riley returned with Giles' clothes, he told Buffy and Giles about his encounter with Spike. Giles sighed heavily.

“Even without the chip, Spike’s no match for him.”

“For who, Giles?” Buffy asked, frustrated. “I can’t believe you made me leave the room when you called Wesley.”

“Now that I’ve spoken to Wesley, I can tell you. The troublemaker is an old colleague of ours on the Watchers’ Council.”

“A watcher?” Buffy said incredulously. “Why would he be feeding you to vampires?”

“I think it was a case of killing two birds with one stone. He probably still hates me from years back, and feeding the vampires was another project entirely. He probably thought it an amusing irony to make me one of his victims.”

“But why would a watcher feed vampires?” Buffy asked again.

“Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll tell you on the way home.”

 

Spike didn’t really think that _he_ would go to the hospital, but he did think that Giles would be in danger at home. He decided to head there and watch the house until Rupert returned.

He wondered what that symbol carved into Giles’ chest meant. Spike wasn’t big on book knowledge. His way was mostly to pick up street smarts. He knew the ways of the underworld, if not all its arcana, and he didn’t like this fellow’s ways. The carved symbol, the brand and the charred book, the ignorant young bucks who were obviously terrified of a human being—all this added up to some sort of powerful magic that Spike couldn’t fight. Why go to all that trouble to string up a few humans for a pack of vampires to eat? They could capture that many themselves in a night, and eat them too. And what did they mean about food for “the time to come”? That sounded like the Master’s kind of talk, that pompous old fool. He got overconfident, making all those pronouncements about prophecies and eternal rule, and the slayer got him, sure enough.

There, along the tall hedge, Spike’s sharp eyes caught movement. Most people would be walking out in the street where the lights were bright, but someone was moving swiftly along in the darkness, heading towards Giles’ house.   From the shadows on the other side, Spike tracked him to Rupert's corner and then suddenly lost him. He glanced around desperately and had just decided to sprint for the house when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He tried to turn, but he felt weighed down with a great lassitude. He fell to his knees.

“Shall I kill you, or shall I let you live, Spike?” came a velvet-soft voice he had never heard before. “You had a taste of my power tonight. How did you like it?”

Spike tried to turn but failed as if he were bound with invisible ropes. “I enjoyed being able to eat again, if that’s what you mean. How did you make the chip stop working?”

The man behind him laughed. “It wasn’t a matter of doing anything to the chip. It was a simple matter of the right spell. The most powerful spell can overcome an absurd bit of technology, although most people would have it the other way around.”

Spike wasn’t much for philosophy. “So, can you make it stop working, get it out of my head?” he asked eagerly.

“I can make you what you were, if you’ll help me get to Rupert Giles.”

Spike wasn’t sure he liked that answer, but it was the best offer he’d had in a while. Recent experience with Adam had made him cautious, though. “How do I know you can? Who are you?”

“I’m an old friend of Rupert’s,” he said. “Let’s leave it at that for now.”

“So why do you hate him so much?”

The grip on Spike’s shoulder tightened. “He never understood what needed to be done. He fought me and drove me out of the place where I could have done the most good.”

“You had him tonight,” Spike said cautiously, “and you were just using him for fast food. Why can’t you take him again? What do you need me for?”

“I want to get to him from the inside and surprise him, make him suffer.” Spike could hear the man breathing behind him in the darkness. “He’s going to ask you to drink his blood. When he does, I want you to turn him.”

Spike grinned. “I can do that. But how do I know you’ll actually fix this chip when I’m done?”

“You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I’ve heard that be—”

“If you don’t do what I ask in the next two days, I’ll destroy you.”

“What have I got to do with all this?” Spike asked angrily. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”

“You’re the only one who can get to Rupert and turn him. He’s the only one who could stop me.”

“Stop you doing what?” Spike asked, but the atmosphere around him shifted in some indefinable way and the grip on his shoulder dissolved. _He_ was gone.

 

“All right, I’ll tell you.” Giles sighed to look at all the serious young faces watching him as he lay back on the sofa. These youngsters had seen much too much trouble in their brief lives, but that was the price of living in Sunnydale. “Back in the days when I first became a watcher, there was a split in the Council. Not that there hadn’t always been disagreements, but this one was radical. One faction—the stronger one—wanted to go the way they Council has actually gone. That was—obviously—the more conservative faction. The other group wanted to revamp—uh, so to speak—the entire _raison d’être_ of the Watchers’ Council. They thought that our continuous battle against the forces of darkness could only be a losing one, costing thousands of innocent lives with no guaranteed outcome. Instead of that, they proposed that we control the dark forces by giving them a bit of what they wanted. Then we could channel their power for good, or at least that was the theory.”

“Who was their leader?” Buffy asked. “Are you going to tell us that he was the one who abducted you last night?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. His name is Aaron Welbeth. He came while I was researching the strange demon we saw near the mansion last week. I had just called you about that, Buffy, as a matter of fact. He walked in as Spike was leaving and during our, uh, discussion, he blasted the book I was reading—just for effect, I’m sure, if he’s at all the way I remember him.” Giles paused and adjusted his glasses. “Did Spike really carry me here from the wharf?” he asked distractedly. “It’s quite a long way.”

“How did Welbeth want to give the powers of darkness ‘a bit’ of what they wanted?” Buffy asked.

“Good question. He decided that we had to find a food source for the vampires—not animal blood, but human blood, something they would accept and we could control. Somehow, according to him, we had to minimize the number of victims rather than stop there being any victims at all. And so he encouraged the Council to find a way to create victims that could be harvested over and over, whose blood wouldn’t be exhausted in a moment. Those people would live to be food for vampires. They would sacrifice their lives so that others wouldn’t have to live in fear.”

“Sounds fair,” said Anya shrugging.

“Sounds kind of…Nazi-like,” Xander put in hesitantly. Anya rolled her eyes.

“Exactly,” said Giles.

“And now he’s found a way,” Buffy said.

“And he tried it out on you,” cried Willow. “It must be that symbol. Is your body just going to keep making blood? What are you going to do with it all until we find a way to undo the spell?”

“That’s an uncomfortable problem. Spike must have known what was happening,” Giles said. “From what the doctor said, I have to drain some of my blood every four to six hours or I’ll have a stroke.”

“He’s supposed to take his blood pressure every few hours and then go to the emergency room and have his blood drained,” Buffy explained.

“I can’t go back there four or more times a day,” Giles said impatiently. “It’s not a medical problem anyway, is it? I just barely got them to release me from the hospital as it is. They were much too fascinated by my strange disease.”

“I’ll call Angel,” Buffy said.

Giles scowled at her. “I’d rather you didn’t do that,” he said coldly. “Spike has saved my life twice over, Buffy. We have to find him now.”

“Oh, no, Giles, not Spike,” Buffy said, getting up and going to him. “We can’t trust him. What if he kills you? What if he turns you? We—”

“What if he kills you?” mimicked Spike. “What if he turns you?” He stood in the doorway looking angrily at Buffy. “Do you get the feeling this girl’s trying to set Rupert against me?”

“You bit him,” she cried. “You drank Giles’ blood.”

“Yeah, and if I hadn’t, he might have had a stroke.”

“And you knew that at the time, right, Spike?” Buffy asked sarcastically.

“Well, no, but I had to fake those vamps out somehow, didn’t I? Your soldier didn’t tell you what I said?”

“He told me.”

“And it didn’t make a damn bit of difference, did it?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t believe you. I don’t think you give a shit about any of us, including Giles.” Her lips were trembling and Rupert looked distressed. Spike was afraid he had pushed her too far.

“Rupert,” he said impulsively, “it’s your call. Should I stay or go?”

“Stay,” said Giles without hesitation. “We need your help to find Welbeth and rescue those people. How did you find me last night?”

“I followed your scent to a warehouse,” answered Spike. “The place is all burnt down now. I don’t know where they’ve gone. Remember, I offered to go back there with the slayer last night. It’s too late now.”

“Yeah,” said Buffy, “you rush in and drop Giles on the floor. He’s branded, unconscious, covered with blood—and then you ask me to go out looking for some gang of vampires?”

“Buffy,” said Giles weakly. He touched his forehead and blinked. “Where’s that blood pressure meter? I think it might be time.”

Willow put the collar on Giles’ arm and pumped it up. Everyone was silent as it hissed downwards. “This looks way high, Giles,” she said.

Giles looked at Spike, standing there facing him with folded arms. “Spike, would you mind…?”

Spike fought to keep his expression neutral, but inside he felt a burst of elation. “First, you lot go after me because I’m a vampire and I drink blood. Now, you’re asking me if I’ll drink your blood just because it’s convenient? Well, I don’t know if I’m all right with that.”

Buffy snorted. “Listen to him, Giles,” she said, “he’s not going to help you. We’ll have to go to the hospital this time and then I’ll call Angel.”

“Wait just a sec,” Spike said quickly. “I am feeling a bit peckish.” He moved to Rupert’s side and dropped to his knees, taking Rupert’s head between his hands. He started to bend towards the watcher’s throat and then recoiled. “It’s enough to put me off my food, you all staring at me like that,” he said. “If you must watch, watch from a distance, would you?”

Slowly, they all got up and moved a bit away. Buffy pulled out a stake and stood by the end of the sofa, watching him.

“Spike, please,” Rupert begged. Spike could see the pain written on his face. His head must be bursting. Spike forgot whatever provocative thing he was about to say to Buffy and shook out his demon face. He leaned over Rupert’s neck and bit down hard. The blood flowed into his mouth, just like before, a bit too quickly. He took a deep pull of the heady stuff and felt the watcher sigh with relief. Rupert slid his arms around Spike’s shoulders and pressed up against him. Spike was overcome with lust. He wanted Rupert sighing under him in bed, not here in the parlor surrounded by this gang of idiots. He broke his hold on Giles’ throat. “Rupert,” he said softly, “let’s go upstairs.”

“No!” Buffy exploded. “I need to watch you.”

Spike tried and failed to shake off his battle face. “You make me feel like I’m an animal or something,” he said petulantly. “I need to concentrate.”

Without a word Giles got up unsteadily and started for the stairs. “Giles, why are you doing this?” The slayer was almost in tears.

“This isn’t like you, Giles,” said Xander, moving to Buffy’s side.

On the third step, Rupert turned to face them. “Perhaps you don’t know as much about what I’m like as you think,” he said quietly.

“Giles,” Buffy cried, “you’ve always fought evil, and now you’re sleeping with the enemy. He’s William the Bloody, Giles. I can’t believe you.”

Giles looked at her as if seeing her in a new light. “And I can’t believe you,” he said harshly. “You risked the world for a night with Angel, and right now I don’t see you denying yourself anything. Xander, you’re sleeping with an ex-demon who doesn’t even understand why Welbeth’s scheme was morally wrong. And Willow—no offense, Tara—but you were in love with a werewolf and now you’re in love with a witch, and I haven’t said a word about either, have I? In fact, I’ve helped all of you when you needed it. I’ve tried to support your choices. And you all have the nerve to get on your high horse—horses—with me about taking a little pleasure myself? Just because I’m over thirty—all right, over forty—do you all think I’m dead from the waist down? I’ve been sleeping with Spike, and I’ve enjoyed it, if you must know. We’re going upstairs to have sex. Does that bother you? Too bad.” He turned and continued up the stairs with Spike at his heels. Spike was so astounded at his victory, he lost his battle face. He was going back to Rupert’s bed, where he’d wanted to be for months.

 

Giles waited at the door and closed it behind Spike, locking it conspicuously. Spike was hard and randy, wild to touch him. He locked his arms around Rupert’s waist and kissed him passionately.

“Spike,” said Giles, breaking away, “it might not be a good idea to raise my blood pressure right now.”

“Then let’s lower it,” Spike said lasciviously, baring his fangs. Holding Rupert securely in his arms, he clamped down on his throat. He could hear Rupert laughing and moaning, out of control, clutching at Spike’s shoulders. The blood overwhelmed Spike again. It wasn’t just the incredible amount that flowed satisfyingly down his throat, but it was as if the stuff were drugged. Spike lost his head, breaking his hold on the watcher’s throat and latching onto his mouth. “Watcher,” he whispered passionately, “Watcher.”

“I missed you,” Rupert said brokenly. “When you come you only ask me for money. I thought—”

“I want it all,” Spike growled. “I want to fuck you, I want you to fuck me, I want to taste you everywhere—”

“Let’s start with that,” Giles whispered.

So Spike pushed Rupert’s shirt down past his arms as Rupert pulled Spike’s t-shirt over his head. They lay down together and Spike removed Rupert’s shoes and socks and then his pants, watching his eyes all the time.

When Rupert was naked, Spike knelt over him, still wearing his tight black jeans. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted this man, this human being. He started with Rupert’s neck, licking the small wounds he had made and moving to the watcher’s collar bone and shoulders and then to his chest. Placing Giles’ hands above his head, he licked delicately at Rupert’s armpits and then ran his tongue and hands down over the ribcage to the belly and navel, finally taking possession of the jewel that stood glistening there. Giles cried out and convulsed, grabbing hold of Spike’s hair. Swallowing him hard, Spike rode out his orgasm and was astounded to feel himself land on the floor hard with Rupert on top of him. The sounds heard downstairs must be unmistakable. Apparently Rupert really didn’t care what they thought anymore.

Rupert moved down and removed Spike’s boots, then his pants. “Still no underwear,” he murmured lewdly, taking Spike into his mouth. He worried him until Spike cried out and then sucked him so hard that Spike almost couldn’t bear it, moaning and kicking and throwing his head back as he came, shouting. Rupert slid into his arms. Spike hadn’t felt this kind of contentment in months, a sense of well-being that almost made him feel as he did when he was human. Until Angelus came along, that is.

 _Oh, bollocks, I’m supposed to turn him._ Spike laughed at himself for a randy fool. “In two days, or I’ll destroy you,” the other had said. Well, shit, he had plenty of time. And two days of this were not to be thrown away.

 

Faint moaning was heard from upstairs. Buffy slammed her book shut. “Why is he all right?” she asked the room in general.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Willow.

“I mean, Giles was abducted, right? He spent a full day being beaten, hanging from his hands, right? His chest was branded and cut. Why is he still walking around? Why is he upstairs doing _that_ when he ought to be flat on his back in the hospital?”

“I don’t know,” said Xander. “It must have something to do with that blood thing. Is he healing extra fast or something, like a vampire?”

“I wonder,” said Buffy.   “But then why didn’t we find it with the other regeneration spells?”

“Maybe Welbeth invented this spell. Maybe it’s not in any of the books we’re looking at,” said Riley. “I mean, he wanted a special spell to make perfect victims for vampires, right? So maybe he made it up.”

“Oh, no,” said Anya in a jaded voice, “I doubt he made it up. Most magic has been around since the beginning of the world. Of, course, it’s possible that this spell never got written down in a book before.”

“We should call Angel,” Buffy said.

“You keep saying that,” said Riley stiffly.

“I just thought he might know about the spell,” Buffy said defensively, “and I’d rather have him drinking Giles’ blood than—” Her thought was punctuated by an ardent yell from upstairs. A heavy thump was heard, followed by an extended moan, then silence.

“At least Angel wouldn’t be…doing that,” said Xander uncomfortably.

“You guys, you know I don’t like Spike,” Willow said, “but it really is Giles’ choice who sucks his blood. If somebody has to suck Giles’ blood, I mean. And if it’s Spike, well, then, we just have to deal with it.” She and Tara smiled at each other.

“It’s not just the blood-sucking that I’m thinking about,” said Buffy unhappily.

 

Spike awoke in the dark and looked at Rupert sleeping next to him, only Rupert wasn’t sleeping. He was lying there looking at Spike, and his eyes smoldered red like two coals.

“Hello, William,” he said, but his voice wasn’t the same.

“What’s happened to you, Watcher?” Spike heard himself saying.

“I have a new name. You turned me, William, don’t you remember?”

“No, I didn’t. Not yet. I decided to wait.”

Rupert smiled. “Did you?”

“What’s your name, Watcher?”

“It isn’t ‘Watcher.’”

“Rupert, then.”

“It isn’t Rupert.” Suddenly fearful, Spike tried to rise quickly, but his legs tangled in the bedclothes. The other took him by the neck.   “It’s Angelus,” said the demon, “and I’m going to turn you now.”

“No!” As Spike awoke he felt the fangs at his throat.

Rupert lay next to him, breathing peacefully. Spike lay thinking, listening to the calming sound. He hadn’t had a nightmare since Angelus had come back and taken Dru from him, since his body had been crushed in the church. He had turned so many into demons. Why would the thought of turning one more frighten him?

Not just “one more.” Rupert.

 

Spike awoke again an hour before dawn. Giles was just coming back into the room with a plate and a glass in his hands.

“I was hungry,” he said softly. “I went downstairs to get something to eat.” Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he bit heartily into the sandwich. “I was starving, actually. This is my second sandwich, and I drank nearly a quart of water. It must be from losing all that blood.”

Spike watched him eat. The food didn’t even look good, now that he was back on his natural form of sustenance. “Are the children still up?” he asked sardonically.

“Buffy and Riley are sleeping on the couch. The rest must have gone home. What a way for Buffy and Willow to spend their first spring break from college, trying to take care of me.”

“Trying a little too hard, I reckon,” Spike said darkly.

Rupert shook his head. “They mean well. They just don’t understand…this. And you must admit, it’s fairly strange. From both our points of view.”

Moving the plate and glass to the floor, Spike sat just in front of Rupert with his legs over the watcher’s and opened Rupert’s robe. Strange? Yes, it was. Two months ago, in a matter of days, they’d gone from mortal enemies to lovers. Well, they were still enemies, really, because Spike was going to turn Rupert—at the end of the second day he would really do it—and he’d be free of the chip, free to hunt and fight as he used to. Maybe it was even stranger than Rupert thought. It was too bad, really, that Rupert’s enemy was so powerful, that he controlled fire, and food, and magic in ways that Rupert could never hope to. It looked as if a grand day for vampires was coming, and maybe Spike would be on the winning side for once. And Rupert would still be there; he’d just be a vampire.

Pushing the future aside, Spike grinned at the sight of Giles’ cock starting to harden without being touched. “How’s your blood pressure, Rupert?” he asked suggestively.

“It’s all right for the moment, I think. Rising, though.” The watcher’s face was so vulnerable, it made Spike’s heart ache as if it were still beating in his chest. The unfamiliar sensation made him gasp. Giles smiled and reached out for Spike. They moved as close together as they could, until their chests touched and their erections were squeezed between their bellies, growing wet and slick. Giles pressed his lips to Spike’s, opening his mouth and pushing in his tongue as far as it would go, everywhere it would go, claiming Spike with his strong mouth until Spike felt overcome, weakened. He let Giles push him back on the bed with his legs in the air and enter him. Wrapping his legs around Giles’ back, Spike encouraged him with teasing words.

“That’s right, Watcher, fuck me. Can’t you go any faster? I don’t think you’re interested. Ah, ah, all right, maybe you are…”

Giles kept looking at him, straight in the eyes, watching every nuance of lust and desire flicker through Spike’s expression. He watched Spike’s pleasure build, slowing his movements, smiling knowingly as Spike struggled to pass the last barrier, begging with his eyes, saying hesitant, pleading words and moaning his name.

“Rupert, now! Harder. I can’t wait. Rupert, please…”

All the words ran together as Spike cried out over and over, his lips against Giles’ as the watcher sighed and moaned through his own pleasure.

“Spike,” Giles said, caressing his face with one hand and kissing him on the eyebrows, cheekbones, chin. “Spike, it’s been so long since anybody…since I…”

Spike took Rupert’s head between his hands and kissed him on the mouth with slow, lingering kisses that deepened as they caught fire. The vampire was as hard again as if he had never come. He rolled over on Giles and rutted up against him, finding that Rupert was hard, too, sooner than usual. A thought blinked thought Spike’s mind and was gone. _It’s his blood…There’s something in his blood…_

“I know what you want,” Giles said unevenly, panting between kisses.

“Tell me, Rupert,” Spike said hoarsely. “Tell me what I want. Tell me that you want it.”

“You want to bite me,” Rupert whispered, closing his eyes. “You want to drink me.”

“And you want it too.”

Giles drew a long, gasping breath. “I want it too.” He arched his neck, exposing his throat to his lover.

Spike latched on and drank, pulling hard at the watcher’s neck. This blood was like an elixir, making him feel invulnerable, making him high. He reached his limit and let go, laughing and crying out as he came, and then he felt Rupert shudder under him and heard him moan. They kissed more slowly now, and Spike felt that broad, boundless sense of contentment again. He was completely satisfied, and yet he looked forward avidly to the next time he could feed from Giles. Spike wanted Rupert, as a lover, unchanged, forever. He wouldn’t give him up no matter how many wizards threatened him.

Spike sensed a terrible convulsion beginning within himself, a spasm in his belly that felt like a sort of melting, as if he’d been struck by fire. For an instant he wondered if Giles’ enemy had managed to smite him as he lay here ignoring the ultimatum, but then he recognized the feeling, buried since the day, a hundred and fifty years gone, when Angelus had seduced him and betrayed him. He couldn’t sort out pity from love, possessiveness from desire, but it didn’t matter. Spike’s human feelings, ignored for a century, had resurfaced to tell him that he couldn’t kill Rupert, couldn’t turn him, and that he would fight for the watcher with all his strength, even if it meant his own destruction.

 

When Giles and Spike went downstairs, Buffy and Riley were awake and there was a new member of their party. Angel sat on a barstool, looking uncomfortably at Giles as he came into the living room. Riley sat stiffly in a straight-backed chair with his eyes riveted on Angel.

“Hey,” Angel said.

“Hello, Angel,” said Giles coolly, walking past him. “If Buffy brought you all the way up here in the hope of a free meal, she’s wasted your time.”

“Giles,” Buffy said, shocked, “there’s no reason to be rude. Angel’s here to help you.”

“I was just telling Buffy that I can’t do it anyway,” Angel said. “I swore I’d never feed on a human again. It’s too disturbing, too tempting. I have to stick to butcher’s blood.”

“Butchers are human, too, or so they say.” Spike came down from the staircase where he’d been listening and lounged against the banister. “Poor Angelus, no sex and no human blood. Well, mate, you had enough of both in your time. You’ve got good memories.”

“I wouldn’t call them good,” Angel said darkly, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s stuffy in here.”

Spike laughed. “You don’t breathe, mate. Get a clue.” He went over and put a possessive hand on Giles’ shoulder. “I’m rediscovering the pleasures of human blood right now. Human blood and—”

Angel slipped off the stool and stood looking confused for a moment. “Angel?” Buffy said questioningly, approaching him. He shook out his demon face and snarled angrily at Spike. Spike growled back, blocking Angel’s path to Giles with his body. “Angel, no!” Buffy said, pulling at his arm. “What’s the matter with you?”

With a great effort, Angel controlled his face. “I have to get out of here,” he choked. “It’s Giles. His blood…the scent of it. There’s something wrong. I want to feed off him.” He ran to the front door and went outside, crouching in the shadows beside the door holding his head in his hands. Buffy ran after him.

“So much for his precious soul,” said Spike. “Poor sod, I wouldn’t be in his shoes for anything.”

“Spike,” Giles said, surprised, eating potatoes out of the pan as he was cooking them and trying to look through a book at the same time, “that’s the first time I ever heard you show pity for Angel. For anybody, actually.”

“Well, just because I hate the man’s guts, there’s no reason why I can’t see his side of things,” said Spike. He looked Giles over appraisingly. “There _is_ something about your blood.” He felt Giles’ chest and looked at the mark, which was healing surprisingly fast. “I wonder what this is,” he said. “It makes you strong, full of blood. It makes me want you even more than I did before.” He put his arms around the watcher from behind and kissed his neck and face fiercely, making contented sounds.

“Actually, there’s something interesting about it in this book,” Giles said. “I think it’s actually a—” Spike kissed him and stopped his words.

Behind them in the living room, Riley didn’t know where to look. He had promised Buffy he wouldn’t be so absurdly possessive (her words) when Angel was around, but he ended up opening the front door and joining them.

Angel cowered in the shadows, moaning softly. No threat there. “Is he okay?” Riley asked Buffy, trying to be companionable but feeling out of place.

“Not really,” she said. “He can’t drive back to L.A. until dark, but he can’t stay too near Giles, either. Did you ever heard of anything so silly as a vampire with a convertible? Of all the cars to buy, he gets one without a roof.”

“Put up the top,” Riley suggested.

“That would be too easy,” said Buffy, rolling her eyes. “It has holes in it.”

“I can drive him,” Riley offered. He didn’t relish being in a car with Angel for two hours, but at least that would get them both out of here.

“Oh, Riley, would you?” Buffy exclaimed. “I feel so stupid for dragging him up here for nothing, and I have to help research that sign and find those people. Let’s see, we’ll cover the windows with aluminum foil. You won’t be driving into the sun. Angel will be in the back seat anyway with a blanket, just in case. We can take his car back to him another time, or Cordelia can come pick it up when she visits her family.”

Buffy went in to get the foil and blanket while Riley pulled his car up to the front door. When she stepped into the kitchen, she nearly tripped over Giles and Spike lying on the floor kissing.

“Guys,” she said. “Guys! Could you do that upstairs?”

Giles looked at her dazedly. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” He rose and dragged Spike with him toward the stairs. Spike seemed even more out of it. He didn’t even appear to know Buffy had spoken.

“I don’t know what got into you either,” said Buffy grimly, “but I’m going to get it out.”

 

“I guess you don’t like me much,” Angel said to Riley.

“Not much,” Riley agreed.

“All right,” said Angel, “I can understand that.”

“So?”

“Never mind. Thanks for driving me home.”

“No problem. It got you away from Buffy faster.”

“You know, I’m really not a threat anymore.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Quite a conversationalist, aren’t you?” Angel said sarcastically.

“You have no right to judge me after what you did,” Riley snapped. There was a silence. “Sorry,” said Riley, “I don’t suppose I have the right to judge you, either.” He drove silently for a while, too conscious of Angel for comfort. “So…what happened to you back there?”

“I don’t know. I was overwhelmed by the scent of Giles’ blood. It just smelled so…delicious. I know that sounds gross to you. Sorry.”

“More than usual?” Riley asked awkwardly, trying only to think of asking helpful questions. “I mean, have you ever felt that way before?

“Never. At this point I can be around people and almost forget that they have blood. As long as they’re not bleeding, or I’m not too hungry. I’m not surprised that Spike is all over Giles. What surprises me is that he hasn’t drained him. They seem to have some sort of symbiosis going.”

“Yeah,” said Riley, “they’re acting insane but they both seem pretty happy. Giles even seems to think he’s acting normal. Spike doesn’t seem to care what he’s acting like.”

“That’s true,” said Angel. “Would you remember to tell Buffy—and Giles, if you can get his attention—about that? The symbiosis, I mean?”

“All right,” said Riley.

 

Giles was awakened by a wet kiss in the small of his back. He smiled, and stretched, making a contented purr deep in this throat. A tongue traced its way down to his ass where he felt a series of gentle bites, getting harder as they moved quickly up his back to his shoulder. Giles responded, body and soul, to the call of Spike’s desire. He wanted this more than sleep or food or life itself. A pair of hands spread him open, readying him for the slick invader that would fill him. Spike’s cock slid insistently against him, pressed at the opening and drove roughly into him. Arching his back, Giles let Spike use him, spreading his legs, giving himself. He wanted Spike’s hands and mouth and body to own him, guide him towards pleasure or oblivion. It thrilled him to lose himself so completely to this creature. Spike’s hand found his cock, pulling and stroking, and Spike’s ravenous mouth found his throat. For a moment his tongue teased the vulnerable spot, and Giles threw back his head, ready to surrender.

Spike’s fangs penetrated his throat as Spike fucked him relentlessly, drank him greedily. The blood flowed swiftly from his body. He felt as if he were dying, and that thought no longer frightened him. To give himself up to Spike, to die in his embrace... Giles’ body jerked in a mad spasm as he cried out in joy at his surrender. Spike released his throat and took him by the hips, holding Giles tight against him as he finished, crying “Rupert!” hoarsely into his ear. With Spike’s arms locked around him, Giles fell into a satisfied sleep that was almost a swoon.

 

The whole gang had gathered in Giles’ living room to read through his library, desperately searching for the symbol that was etched so luridly on his chest. In the silences, they sometimes heard thumps and groans from upstairs.

Anya looked up. “Does Giles have another bedroom?” she asked speculatively. “Those sounds make me want to have sex.”

“Anya,” Xander said, blushing, “could you remember that saying that in private is a turn-on, but saying it in public is the opposite?”

“A turn-off?”

“Right.”

“Sorry. I got them mixed up again.”

Upstairs, Spike yelled something incomprehensible and gasped and moaned his way to another climax. No one in the room was looking at their books anymore. Silence fell over the house.

“I swear, if it wasn’t Giles up there with him, I’d go and stake him this minute,” Buffy said irritably. “Has anyone got any leads? Anything at all?” The door opened and Riley came in. Buffy got up to greet him with a kiss. “So, how quiet was it in the car?” she teased him.

Riley shrugged. “We were talking about symbiosis.” She looked at him quizzically. “You know, the way Giles and Spike seem to be in some kind of balance. Spike feeds off him all the time but never drains him, and they’re both acting weird.”

“That’s an understatement,” she said. “I’m not sure what that tells us, though.”

Willow sat up suddenly. “It tells us that we’re looking in the wrong books.” She looked at Tara. “It’s not just acting on Giles, so it’s not just a restoration spell. Spike’s been affected, too. There’s something addictive in Giles’ blood.”

“It’s an elixir,” cried Tara gleefully. “Where’s Giles’ copy of _The Dictionary of Potions_?”

 

For the tenth time in two days, Spike poised himself over Rupert and bit down fiercely, gorging himself on the watcher’s rich blood. Each time he drank it Spike felt closer to Rupert, more possessive, less able to let him go. The wizard’s threat still hung over him, but Spike couldn’t do anything about it. It was as if he didn’t have time to do anything except this, and this was all-important, all-consuming.

In his old hunting days, the time before the chip in his head, Spike used to drink a human dry in a matter of minutes. He drank them up and discarded them, hardly even remembering their faces. If someone impressed him, he turned them. The others were just food. But now, with Giles, he seemed to know instinctively how much he could drink. After a few long swallows, he felt sated and he stopped. Giles would eat some food, drink some water, and a few hours later Spike would feed off him again. In between, they enjoyed each other, thinking about nothing else.

Now Spike stopped and licked up Rupert’s neck to his mouth. He liked for Rupert to taste the blood on him, and Rupert didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Rupert seemed to crave being drained as much as Spike relished drinking him. _This blood is addictive,_ Spike thought. _It’s addictive._ _Of course. There’s a potion in it or something._

He meant to tell Rupert, but he got lost in their kiss, in feeling Rupert suck his tongue and stroke the hair over his temples with gentle fingers. He held Rupert’s head in his hands and pressed up again him with the whole length of his body. For two days now they had only dressed when they had to go downstairs, and then only grudgingly. Their hands had hardly been off one another’s bodies, their mouths hardly apart. They were obsessed, stricken. There were no barriers between them. Occasionally, a subtle thought would flit through Spike’s mind. _What’s happening to us? Why do I need him so much?_ And then it would go, driven out by some exquisite new pleasure.

Spike rocked over Giles, rubbing against him hard, looking down into his eyes. He never tired of watching the watcher take his pleasure, of feeling Rupert’s chest against his chest and Rupert’s hands on his back and shoulders and ass. Spike slipped one leg between Rupert’s and brought him close slowly, feeling the sticky wetness spread between them. Rupert reached for his lips, and they kissed open-mouthed. Rupert moaned in his throat, so that Spike broke off their kiss and watched him close his eyes and arch his neck as he convulsed, holding Spike by the shoulders. As Rupert finished, Spike’s own climax began, and he took his time getting there, in no hurry to be done. After, they lay together affectionately in the quiet house, perfectly sated.

 

“Okay, here’s what we think is happening,” said Willow excitedly to the group gathered around her in the living room. “The brand is an ancient symbol that was used by vampires to mark victims that they wanted to keep around for lean times. It’s a simple regeneration spell—vampires are really bad at complicated spells—that makes a person bloodier. Let me rephrase that. It makes someone produce more blood than a normal person. In fact, they’re literally bursting with it.”

“Thanks, Willow. We get the picture,” said Xander, disgusted.

“But—and this is the really bad part—there’s another symbol superimposed over the brand. That’s why we didn’t recognize the brand at first. Anyway, this second symbol that’s carved into Giles’ chest—sorry Xander—is a potion carrier.”

“A what?” asked Riley, who was having difficulty following what they were saying at all.

“A carrier,” said Tara. “Giles’ chest was cut with a knife that was imbued with some kind of potion. That means that the knife was purified first and then the potion was joined with it, so that the potion almost became a part of the knife. The knife could then be used to put the potion into someone’s body forever, or until a reverse spell is cast.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Buffy said, “Giles has more blood than he ought to—that’s the vampire food part—and he also carries some kind of potion in his blood that won’t go away—that’s the humping like bunnies part.” Riley looked at her, a little shocked.

“I think so, but it doesn’t make sense. Welbeth wanted to feed vampires, not make them have sex with humans,” Willow said.

“Well, if they had sex with humans, then the humans wouldn’t be unhappy, right?” suggested Anya. “That would keep vampires from biting people who didn’t want to be bitten.” A polite silence greeted her remark.

“So, Willow and Tara,” said Buffy, “can you reverse these spells?”

“Yes and no,” said Willow. “We can reverse the bloody one, but until we know what potion Giles is full of, we can’t figure out how to get rid of it.”

“Uh, is there a blood test for it?” asked Xander.

“Nope. But if we knew where the purification spell was performed, we might be able to find the thing that the impurities were cast off into. We need the impurities to reverse the spell.”

“Giles might remember something,” said Buffy, “if we could only talk to him.” Upstairs, the bed had been creaking hard and slowly. A long moan punctuated her sentence, and then there was silence.

“Come on, Giles,” Buffy whispered, “it’s time for you to be hungry now.” There were footsteps and then the shower went on. “Yes!” said Buffy.

 

Giles came down the staircase alone. His damp hair was tousled and he wore his usual tattered robe. With single-minded purpose, he moved towards the kitchen.

“Giles?” Buffy said tentatively.

“I’m hungry,” he murmured, passing her and opening the refrigerator. He pulled out some bread and cheese and started eating ravenously as he stood there.

“Do you want someone to make you some eggs?” Buffy suggested as she scanned the contents of the fridge. “I need to talk to you, all right?”

“Yes. Yes, please, I’d love an omelet.” He filled a glass with orange juice and drank it down.

Buffy suddenly realized that he looked like a starved man. It frightened her. She couldn’t let this continue. “Okay, who can make an omelet? Willow?”

Willow shrugged helplessly. “Not me.”

“That would be me,” said Riley, giving Buffy an affectionate peck on the cheek before he reached around Giles for the eggs.

“Great. Okay, Giles, come here.” She led him to the counter and sat him on a barstool still clutching the bread and cheese. “Giles, do you remember what kind of spell went with that mark on your chest?”

“Yes, perfectly. My mind’s not gone, you know,” he said, annoyed at the childish way she’d spoken to him. “I’ve just been busy lately.” He chewed and swallowed another desperate mouthful.

“Busy?” Buffy asked in disbelief, knowing she shouldn’t. “Giles, don’t you want your life back?”

“I have to do this,” Giles said firmly with a vague look in his eyes. “I don’t have time for anyone but Spike right now.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said. “Now, about the spell…”

“It was two spells, really. First Welbeth branded me to make me produce more blood. It’s a kind of regeneration spell. Surely you’re run across that one if you’ve done any research at all. It was in the _Mundus horribile._ I saw it yesterday but, uh, I didn’t have time to tell you.”

“We’ve got it,” said Willow.

“Good. The other was more complicated, and I wasn’t quite conscious by then. Now that I think about it, it must have been a potion of some sort, applied with a knife and a carrier spell. There must have been some sort of purification, but I didn’t see it.”

“I could have told you that,” said Spike, coming down the stairs and making straight for Giles. He wore a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else. As he touched Giles, they seemed to melt into one another. Their lips met and they forgot where they were.

“Giles,” Buffy asked desperately, “did he do the spell here, or did he take you away first?”

Spike broke away for a second. “Here,” he said, diving back into the kiss.

“How do you know?” Buffy cried, frustrated.

“Giles, your omelet’s ready,” said Riley.

Giles surfaced, blinking dazedly. “Spike, I need to eat.”

“All right, Watcher,” Spike said affectionately, keeping his hand on his lover’s arm.

 _How much of this is the potion,_ Buffy thought fearfully, _and how much of it is just them?_

“I could smell the blood,” Spike explained. “I know they cut him here.”

“So the purification must have been done here,” said Willow. “It needs to be done just before—it doesn’t last that long.”

“What would they have used?” Buffy asked, looking around.

“That’s the question,” said Tara. “Depending on what they used, we’ll be able to look up what kind of potion it was. It could be clothing, food, water—”

“Oh, great!” said Buffy. “You mean it might have gone down the drain?”

Giles had finished wolfing his omelet and he reached out quickly for Spike, taking him around the waist and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Giles! Giles, what was it? We need to know what kind of potion it was so we can stop this.” She pulled on Spike’s shoulder to detach him from the watcher. Spike shoved her hand away and was momentarily incapacitated by a searing pain in his head.

“Shit,” he swore, “oh, damn, I forgot about that.”

“What did Welbeth use for the purification, Giles?”

“The milk,” Spike shouted angrily, pressing his forehead. “It was the bleeding milk, of course. Didn’t I tell you days ago it was sour?”

“Milk?” Tara laughed, putting a hand to her mouth.

Buffy was furious. “What’s so funny?”

“If they used milk for the purification spell, then the potion was phyllbore.”

“Oh, god, poor Giles!” exclaimed Willow. “Phyllbore gets more and more concentrated the longer it stays in your blood.”

“But what does it _do_?” Buffy was ready to knock their heads together.

Willow suppressed her smile. “It’s really not funny, I guess. It makes you love your opposite.”

Spike and Giles were kissing again. Spike had his hands around Giles’ face while Giles held him around the waist.

“It’s too bad,” said Riley thoughtfully. “They really seem to like each other.”

“It’s just the whatchamacallit,” Buffy said quickly.

“Phyllbore,” corrected Tara and Willow in unison.

“Yes, a touch too much phyllbore, I think,” came a cultured and unfamiliar voice.

“Doesn’t anyone ever knock around here?” Riley asked, staring at the man who was standing in the doorway. He was of medium height, built like a wrestler with a barrel chest and short, strong legs. His hair was all gray, and his aristocratic features matched his Oxbridge drawl.

“I’m Welbeth,” he said politely, “but I suppose you know that.”

Spike spun towards him, fangs bared, protecting Giles with his body. Not noticing anything, Giles embraced him around the chest and continued to kiss his neck and bare shoulders.

“I won’t turn him,” Spike snarled. “You can kill me if you want, but I won’t change him for you.”

Welbeth laughed. “I didn’t think you would,” he said, with a studied lack of concern.

“You asked Spike to turn him?” Buffy asked, with murderous fury in her voice.

“I wanted him out of the way if I happened to succeed. I had such high hopes this time, but, unfortunately, I realized a day ago that my experiment had failed. The potion is the key, and I obviously haven’t found the right one. Not yet.”

“We know you’re trying to find a food source for vampires—” Buffy began.

“Oh, that’s the easy part!” he interrupted. “There’s been a spell around for that for simply eons. The problem is that vampires like to hunt. They enjoy the thrill of the chase almost more than the eating. The trick is to find a food source that they’ll like so well that they’ll give up the hunt.” He paused and smiled charmingly at them as if they weren’t all regarding him with disgust. “The trick is, in a manner of speaking, to make them adore their food and make their food adore them.” He looked at Giles, who was biting and sucking his way down Spike’s muscular arm. “I think I exaggerated a bit in that direction, don’t you?”

“So, can you undo the spell?” Willow dared to ask.

“Oh, yes, young lady, I can. Or should I say ‘I could’? I could if I wanted to, but I won’t.” Staring at Giles he curled his lips into an unpleasant grin. “I enjoy seeing him this way, loving the thing he lived to hate. I don’t know of a more appropriate fate for him.”

“And what about me?” said Spike, a bit sullen at being ignored. “What was all that about destroying me?”

“You’re harmless,” said Welbeth with a wave of his hand.

“I wish people would stop calling me that!” Spike said, pouting. Giles bit him on the neck and he turned to take the watcher in his arms. In a moment they were both oblivious to their surroundings.

“You can’t go until you’ve lifted those spells,” said Buffy determinedly, moving to block Welbeth’s path.

He chuckled indulgently. “Young woman, I know you are the Slayer and that Giles was your watcher. You probably love him like a father, and that’s as it should be. But I want you to look at him for a moment. Just look.” Giles was sucking at Spike’s chest as Spike kissed and caressed his head.

Buffy couldn’t keep her eyes on them too long. “They’re under the influence of your stupid spell that makes them act like this,” she said. “When it passes, Giles is going to be horrified.”

“Are you sure?” Welbeth asked quietly, raising his wooly gray eyebrows.

“What are you getting at?” Buffy snapped.

Welbeth shook his head. “Ever since I’ve known Rupert, he’s been so sure that the way to deal with vampires is to kill them. That’s been his life’s work—killing vampires and training others to kill them.”

“And he still feels that way,” Xander dared to interject.

“And yet….” said Welbeth. He sighed. “Before Rupert became a watcher he was involved in some dubious escapades involving demonic possession. It’s a fascination of his, I believe, to give himself over to a dark power.”

“I know about Eyghon, but he was young then, and Ethan influenced him. I don’t believe that Giles still feels that way,” Buffy said flatly.

“Then consider this. Just two months ago, Rupert spent a week entertaining this same vampire in his home.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“In his bed.”

Silence fell over the group, broken only by the luscious sounds made by Spike and Giles as they kissed and fondled each other. Spike’s hands were both inside Giles’ robe, moving over his ass.

“I know,” Buffy admitted angrily. “I don’t understand that. He was lonely. Maybe Spike took advantage of him. Look, Mr. Welbeth, you have to help Giles.”

“He hasn’t often helped me,” said Welbeth, with an enigmatic smile. “At least he was too distracted to hinder me this time. I was simply overconfident. My plan is a long way from success.” They all watched as Giles slid down Spike’s body and knelt before him, kissing his erection through the cotton pajamas.

“Riley, make them go upstairs,” Buffy said, mortified.

Welbeth laughed suddenly. “Ah, Buffy, we show our humanity when we kneel before another.”

“Spike isn’t human,” she said in a strangled voice.

He shrugged. “So much the better. Rupert may come around to my view yet. I do believe I’ll wait and see how it all turns out. Don’t worry. I don’t mean him any harm now.”

“Then you’ll undo the spell?” Willow asked hopefully.

“No, I won’t,” he said, chuckling meanly. “You can figure it out yourselves. All the clues are here. It will be a good mental exercise. Your teacher will be proud of you…perhaps.” Silently he watched as Riley herded the lovers to the staircase. “I must warn you not to expect any radical transformation, my dears. Don’t think for a moment that as soon as you cast the spell the two of them will spring apart.”

“At least tell us where those people are,” Buffy said quickly, suddenly remembering. “Where are the other victims who were in the warehouse with Giles?”

“Gone,” Welbeth said coldly.

“Gone?” Buffy asked, puzzled. “You mean, ‘dead’?”

“Gone,” he repeated cruelly. “Beyond your reach. You won’t find them.”

“If you’re not going to help us, why don’t you go?” Buffy snapped rudely. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”

With an ironic smile and a last glance up the stairs at Giles, Welbeth left.  

 

They let Giles and Spike remain upstairs while they gathered what they needed for the spells. There was no use keeping the two of them in the living room or they would have been copulating on the sofa, so focused had they become on each other. They barely got through the door of the bedroom before Giles dropped to the floor to finish what he’d started downstairs. With a mock snarl, he mouthed Spike’s erection through the pajamas and took it in his teeth to worry it like a bone. Spike, with both hands in Giles’ hair, swayed unsteadily on his feet.

“I’ll fall, Watcher,” he said, laughing. Giles’ answer was to stand and rush him backwards to the bed where they fell together and kissed for a moment before Giles knelt on the floor to continue his work. “Single-minded bastard, aren’t you?” Spike gasped. “Not that I object.”

Giles had made the thin cotton wet now, so that the head of Spike’s cock showed clearly through, and licked and bit at it provocatively. Spike groaned in protest. “Aw, do it properly, can’t you, Rupert? You’re making me crazy.”

“That’s the idea,” Giles growled, but he pulled the elastic down and took Spike completely into his mouth. Spike writhed under him, moaning. Giles loved to hear Spike’s uninhibited shouts and moans and gasps of pleasure, which spurred him on to new inventions to wring more appreciation from his lover.

Once Spike lay still, Giles climbed on top of him and rubbed up against his chest.

“What, are you randy again?” asked Spike in mock surprise. “Well, give it here.”

Giles moved up and angled his erection to Spike’s mouth. Spike took it in deeply and sucked hard, grabbing hold of Giles’ ass, but letting him move at his own pace. Eyes closed, sighing, Giles lost himself in Spike’s power.

Touching and tasting, they lay together enthralled until it was time for Spike to feed again.

 

The milk was so sour now it was almost solid, and it smelled nauseating. Xander got the job of cutting the container open so that they could get some out to reverse the spell.

“How come I always get this kind of job?” he asked, gagging.

“Because you’re so good at it,” laughed Buffy.

“You’re not doing anything,” he protested. “Willow and Tara are doing all the work.”

“That’s what you think,” she answered, “I’m thinking.”

And she _was_ thinking. She was wondering if she’d ever look at Giles in quite the same way again. She’d heard that he had been messing with Spike a couple of months ago, but she hadn’t really let herself picture it. She supposed she’d been in denial, thinking it a fluke. After all, she and Spike had thought they loved each other for a couple of hours once, but it hadn’t meant anything. They’d been under a spell cast involuntarily by Willow, so that they’d thought they were going to get married. She’d even told Riley that she was in love with someone. By this time he’d probably figured out who “Spike” was, but he hadn’t asked yet. Sweet Riley, she really ought to try to explain, but it would take so long.

Anyway, Welbeth was right. She’d always thought of Giles as the good father she’d never had. And so it was upsetting to hear Giles and Spike going at it up in the bedroom with no inhibitions at all, groaning and thumping the bed as if no one was listening. They’d nearly had sex in front of everyone in the living room. Now she’d never get that picture out of her mind: Giles kneeling in front of Spike, mouthing his erection. In all honesty she couldn’t even chalk it up to the spell, because she knew that they’d done this before when they were both in their right minds. Ha! As if Spike even had a right mind, with a demon inside him—but what about Giles?

So they set it all up and waited for Giles to surface for food. Xander made him a plate of three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as bait, and that’s when Buffy realized that she wasn’t the only one who hated this and wished for it to end. They wanted Giles back all to themselves. She wondered for a second if maybe that was selfish.

Giles came down and ate all three sandwiches without taking a breath. Although he seemed contented, he looked hollow and pale in the face, while Spike looked sleek and happy instead of angular and edgy, and Buffy wanted to wipe the floor with him in the worst way, whether he could fight back or not.

“All right, Giles, we’re ready,” Willow told him.

It broke Buffy’s heart to see that Giles had forgotten exactly what they were ready for. He sat down where they told him, but his eyes looked longingly at Spike, who kept wandering into the circle until Buffy sat him forcibly on the sofa.

“Here we go,” said Willow. She pronounced the Latin words as best she could while anointing Giles’ chest with some disgusting mixture she and Tara had concocted earlier. There was a flash, and the brand in Giles’ flesh suddenly disappeared.

“That’s one,” said Tara. “Now for the elixir.”

After a long preliminary spell involving ashes and candle flames, they took the sour milk and dipped a knife in it and traced the marks on Giles’ chest while chanting together. In a moment the knife was covered with rust and mold and other vile stains, while the sour smell faded and the milk tuned to liquid again.

“That should do it,” whispered Willow, looking at Giles. Everyone watched Giles, who sat still, staring at Spike, who had risen. “Darn,” said Willow, “I wonder if we messed up somewhere?”

But no one save Giles had bothered to look at Spike, who stood wavering under an invisible blow. It was as if his body had been engulfed by a wave and now he stood weak and dripping on the shore. He fell to his knees. “Rupert,” he cried. “Rupert!”

Now everyone watched as he struggled to his feet and stumbled to Giles’ side before falling to his knees again. Giles reached out for him, and they kissed madly, desperately. Suddenly wearing his demon face, Spike bared his fangs and bit at Giles’ throat. He fell screaming to the floor, holding his head. “You had to ruin it, didn’t you?” he gasped. “It was the best bleeding time of my life, and you only let it last two days. Damn you!” Crawling, snatching at the carpet, Spike pulled himself up on a chair and staggered to the staircase. “I have to get out of here,” he muttered, falling once as he ran up the stairs.

Giles rose unsteadily and looked around at his friends. “I know you had to do what you did,” he said slowly. “You couldn’t leave things as they were, of course. But I— ” His voice broke and he glanced towards the stairs.

“Are you all right, Giles?” Buffy asked, going to him. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I’m fine, I think. And, yes I remember. I remember everything.” He sighed. “I know it’s been difficult for you to watch this. I’m terribly sorry that another old enemy of mine has come back to haunt us. But I suppose I ought to tell you that I’m not ashamed of what you saw. Oh, don’t misunderstand me, I’m embarrassed that my behavior was so far out of control. But I wish I could have expected a bit more tolerance from you. From all of you. Each of you has made a choice from time to time that the others found…peculiar, or even offensive. I don’t know why I don’t have that right as well.”

“You didn’t make this choice, Giles,” said Xander aggressively. “The potion made it for you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Giles shot back.

“Then Welbeth was right?” Buffy asked, horrified.

“Welbeth?” Giles looked stunned. “Was he actually here? Oh, god, yes, I thought I had imagined it. What did he say?”

“That you are fascinated with the dark side. That you enjoy giving yourself up to it.” Buffy’s face looked drawn and pale and disappointed.

Giles shook his head. “I don’t know. I suppose he has a point, but it’s not that simple.”

Fully dressed, Spike barreled down the stairs. “I’m off,” he said without looking at anyone.

“Spike…” Giles moved to intercept him but Spike put out a hand to shove him away and then fell against the doorjamb, wincing in pain.

“Will you keep me here, Watcher?” he asked resentfully. “I don’t want to stay.”

“No,” said Giles slowly. “You can go.” He stood in the doorway watching Spike walk out. No one else moved. A moment later, Giles went out and shut the door behind him. The sun was setting, gilding the tops of the palm trees. There were no patches of light left anywhere on the ground. Spike leaned up against the wall in the shade rubbing his forehead.

“I’m just going,” he said, and didn’t move. “See if I don’t.” When Giles touched his arm, Spike turned angrily as if to shake him off. Their eyes met and Spike relaxed. “Can’t fight you, can I?” he said, shrugging. “I’ll just get a headache.” Giles slipped an arm around his waist and Spike leaned back into it.

“It wasn’t just the potion, Spike,” Giles said softly. “We didn’t have the potion last time.” Spike didn’t answer, but he tilted his head back so that it touched Giles’. “I think the potion just exaggerated what we already felt.”

“I don’t feel—not like that,” Spike said painfully. “It ripped me apart. All of it came back, things I hadn’t felt in a hundred and fifty years. Since Angelus. Bloody Angelus.” He kicked moodily at the ground. “I thought he was just what I wanted, so beautiful, and always had an answer for everything. He caught me right at that time in my life where I was beginning to feel things, learning how to love. Dru killed me, and Angelus tore me apart.” They stood together quietly, without moving. “I never felt that way, before or since, until just now.” They stood together a few moments before Spike moved out of the circle of Giles’ arm and turned to face him. “They all hate me in there and I hate them. I’m not your pet vampire. If I could I’d kill them all.”

“Even me?” Giles smiled sadly.

Spike looked down. “I have to go.”

Giles kissed him softly on the cheekbone. Spike closed his eyes and let Giles embrace him.

“Don’t stay away,” Giles murmured. “Come back sometimes. Not just for money.”

“Will you keep some blood in the fridge?” Spike asked.

“Of course, if you’ll promise to come soon. It has an expiration date.”

“I won’t let it go to waste,” Spike said. “Don’t invite anyone else, all right? I hate to have the Slayer see me like this.”

“I won’t. We’ll be all alone.”

They stood close together watching as the last bit of sunset was swallowed by the bulk of houses and trees between them and the sea. A wave of coolness and earthy scent rose from the garden. Spike let go of Giles and, without looking back, walked out into the gathering darkness.


End file.
